


Kuzumochi

by HerCrookedTeeth



Category: Broken Minds - Fandom
Genre: Gen, and it is. but it's also..., and that's why the title is kuzumochi., but what i love about reiwa is that she might be the only person in the cast who genuinely cares?, but... really I just wanted an excuse to write about this unfortunately obscure game, help! my heart was stolen by yaeba style!, it's translucent and seems simple at first glance -, it's up to the reader to decide if Reiwa is telling the truth or 'spicing up' her life., just. she's great., kind of a daily reflection thing, maybe i just want to have a job in the YPDA though.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-21 22:50:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16585769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HerCrookedTeeth/pseuds/HerCrookedTeeth
Summary: Four moments in the life of a secretary.Not particularly exciting, nor particularly dramatic.Or perhaps they are, and we just don't notice it in our own lives.But not all investigations involve detectives or orphans...





	1. Not really?

The first thought she had when she found herself looking at the ceiling fan and pretending to be mesmerised was: "Like, Reiwa – why didn't you become a cosmetologist?"  
  
And the second was, "It's on the fifty-eight rotation? Only a handful more before break - "

Which was completely and utterly untrue.  
Though the doctor insisted on multiple 'sanity breaks,' they never seemed to line up at the same time every day.  
Indeed, a lot of the time they only occurred when he wanted them to occur, and not when he forgot about them.  
  
But, not like it really mattered.  
She could always just slip off or something -  
  
"Excuse me, Miss Secretary. You've been staring at the ceiling fan for, for... An hour, maybe half an hour. Please, we've been waiting for Doctor Uzumaki for a minute, maybe half a minute!"

 _Okay,_ Reiwa's brain informed her – moving a fair clip ahead of her somewhat dazed expression. __  
Like, first. That sentence. There's something wrong with it?  
You reversed it?  
  
Second...  
  
Privately, she referred to the mother/daughter duo as the 'Sometimes' because they only came in sometimes.  
Which was unfair? The little girl was clearly struggling with a _lot_ , and like the mother kind of just deposited her here for no reason?

Biting her lip, Reiwa glanced at the door to the doctor's inner sanctum (his words; not hers).

"Sorry, I'd totally like to let you in, but the doctor is..."

Mentally, she weighed the pros and cons of telling them that the doctor was wearing nothing but his skivvies and a pair of store-bought bunny ears, while sucking on his thumb and howling into the soundproofed interior inner sanctum.  
(She considered it the inner sanctum, squared.)  
  
Yeah, no.  
  
"... He'll be with you in a second, probably? Just sit tight. Do you two, want, like, some candy..."

"Candy – sorry, I don't believe in that sort of thing. Did you know that sugar isn't inherent in the traditional diet? _First Flush_ magazine told me that actually, the most important thing in the world is natural sugars, so Himiko is only allowed to eat bananas, but I _guess_ I could force myself to have some – "

To be honest, Reiwa was already tuning out Sometime Senior.  
The daughter, Himiko...

Well, like, to be honest, Reiwa was no stranger to fad diets, but she just didn't believe in them?  
People put way too much effort into that sort of thing.  
Which suprised people when she said as much, for some reason?

... Anyway, it was rotten as hell to restrict a kid to bananas.  
And she –  
  
Stumbling through the door, the doctor slicked his hair back.  
Like, it didn't exactly inspire confidence, and yet _somehow_ there were an endless stream of wealthy semi-suburbanites who kept choosing this guy, over all other therapists, out there...  
  
He smiled, charmingly.

"Oh, Mrs. Ishiyama. Always a pleasure. And little Himiko! Oh, how we love children, here. Isn't that right, Reiwa?"  
  
"Yeah?"

"She's such a kidder, is Reiwa. Mrs. Ishiyama, after you... Himiko, you and I can talk after your mother and I have spent some time together. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Little kids were always honest, in their own way.  
The baleful look Himiko sent the doctor must not have penetrated his, like, deflector shields?  
Because he was either unobservant or unaware, maybe both.

Mrs. Ishiyama, though, she was all smiles and blushes and all that as the doctor took her softly by the hand and led her through the partition.

Reiwa snorted, and blew her hair out of her face.  
She really shoulda brought a nail file...  
  
"Why are you missing teeth?"  
  
"Like? _What??_ "

"I'm missing the same ones!"

Himiko beamed and display her pearly whites; she _wasn't_ missing the same teeth, but Reiwa had to admire her guts?  
Kids like that always grew up tough.  
  
... Glancing behind her, Reiwa could only hear the chatter of them discussing boring therapy things, so...  
  
"Like, it's because I ate too many sweets. Do you want some konpeito?"

"My mom says I can't have anything like that. She – "

Himiko took a turn eyeing up the door.  
She had a distant look on her face that didn't befit a girl of, what, seven or eight? Reiwa actually didn't think about her own childhood, much.  
A lot of people spent too much time reflecting on those years, like they were best in their lives –  
  
People were messed up.  
  
The dark brown ponytails swayed, and Himiko smiled, a little.  
  
"I'd like some candy, please."  
  
"Okay, like, it's totally our secret?"  
  
Gnawing on the tiny sugar stars as if they were some kind of charm, Himiko took a seat on the couch.  
The waiting couch, that was; it was a lot rattier than anything in the doc's office.  
He had all these props to 'assist' in therapy, but Reiwa's therapist – she didn't need one before she took this job, that was for sure – just had a nice, well-maintained, ordinary room.

The doc was so weird –

"My mom says that she and dad don't talk anymore because of the divorce. Do you think she's lying?"

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee."

Reiwa added a few more 'e's to be safe, because this wasn't her field of expertise, not even a little?  
Still, her advice would probably be as good as that guy's, and the chance she spiraled out of control into some pointless rant was, pretty low?  
So, so...

Crossing her rail-thin arms, Reiwa scooched her wheely-chair back a few inches, and tried to look nonpartial and professional.

"Parents lie all the time? But, sometimes they do it to protect us."  
  
"But aren't lies always bad?"

"They can be? And sometimes, you can't tell until it's way later? Which is why, and it su – it's hard, but we've gotta be really tough?!"

Himiko looked at the floor thoughtfully.  
Reiwa got out of her seat, and gave the little girl a pat on the back.  
They ate some candy together.

"I just wish things were easier."  
  
"Don't we all?.."

"Can I ask you another question? Why is your hair so blonde?"

"Oh, that one I can answer, it's magic!?"

Pronouncing it as a question with _pride_ in it, Reiwa thumped her clenched palm against her chest.  
Himiko watched with all the natural skepticism a kid could have.  
  
"You got me? It's not magic, it's bleach..."

"Oh, 'kay. Hey, can you not... Mom gets angry when I talk about dad – "  
  
Is of on cue, because nothing was ever easy, the door opened.  
The doctor and Ishiyama seemed to have had a falling out; there was a lot of shouting going on, and Reiwa could feel a particularly nasty headache coming on...

"You don't know what you're talking about! I pay you to tell me what I deserve to hear, not listen to your self-aggrandising – "  
  
"Listen, listen, listen to yourself! That's just the anger nodes in your brain firing up. Come back, and let the soothing sound of water wash over you, and drag you down! Mrs. Ishiyama! Maya!"

Reiwa politely excused herself from where she'd been sitting with Himiko, and pretended to look like she'd been busy at her desk; which was fine, because neither of the other adults noticed her.  
Nobody did, really.

"HI-MI-KO! We're going. This quack shouldn't be running a, a shaved ice stand, let alone a licenced therapist's shop! Do you hear that, Uzumaki? You're a quack, and I hate you!"

"Mrs. Ishiyama, I know things got a bit tense before, but that's just a vital part of the healing process. Let's get back to talking about this, ah, intimately, without all the background noise, and you'll be glad. You'll feel healed!"

"Bite your navel and die, Uzumaki. My husband is dead, and fueling the delusional fantasies of _his_ spawn is as stupid as your haircut!"  
  
"M, my haircut isn't..."

"You there, secretary b – "

Reiwa tuned out the curse.  
Not like she hadn't been called worse, a thousand times before.

"I hope you weren't talking to **my** little Himiko. She has such an impressionable mind, and a, a – street-tramp like yourself isn't doing her any favours!"

"Uh-huh?"

"... Oh..."  
  
People had a hard time countering her abject refusal to care, so that was nice.  
Reiwa pretended to going back to watching the ceiling fan spin it's tiny pirouettes, even as the doctor fell to his feet and begin the 'bargaining' part of the ordeal.

But, she cast an eye to Himiko.  
  
The young girl smiled, a bit, gave her a little wave.  
Reiwa stretched her hand back like a cat's paw, and did a little wave, too.  
  
Hopefully that kid'd be all right.  
Weird, though, like, her father was dead?  
Ah, that _totally_ reminded her about the other check-in they'd had recently...


	2. Sort of?

"Reiba... This wittle doctor ib habby to see bou!"

Like, she totally liked the money, but being a cosmetologist was sounding better and better by the minute, by the second?

This was technically a part of the day-to-day duties, well – when the doctor felt like it, which was fairly frequently.   
Right now, Uzumaki was lying on his back on the floor, rolling from side to side and wearing only a pair of tighty-whities.

If it'd been fundoshi, like, suicide wouldn't have been out of the cards...

"Glad to see you, too?"

He could never remember the details from these little sessions, which was kind of weird.   
He remembered he _had_ them, that he'd _regressed_ or whatever he pretended he was doing right now.   
But he totally blanked on the rest of it?

She really couldn't see the point.   
Actually, she _wished_ she couldn't see the point, but unfortunately she _had_ and _ewewewewew_ –

"Reeeeiiiiiibaaaa... Tobay bere was a berry scarry case! I'b so scared, Reiba..."

"That's, real bad?"

He started bawling, and she forced herself to take one step towards him and then another.   
Now they were about ten inches apart, and that was about the upper limits of what she could force herself to do; thankfully, he didn't actually need any, like, comfort or anything, right now – it was like he just wanted to be _seen?_

"A berry, berry bad crime man... Saib he was gonna die, Reiba! And when he died... His superdooper poisonal forchune would go, gogo byebye..."

In the dimly lit inner sanctum, the crescent moon earrings she wore shook.   
Artificial light reflected off of artifical metal, chintzy and golden.

"Like... His personal fortune, could you repeat that, doc... Doctor baby?"

"Yebyeb, Reiba! It had to be at leab fibby... Fibity fibe BILLION yen!"

Reiwa steepled her fingers to her chin, and tried her best not to emote at all.   
Fibity fibe billion yen...   
Fifty-five bilion yen was, okay, that was a lot of money, and she...

"Okay, so like, you're telling me that he had a personal fortune? And it was sealed up, somewhere?"

"Inna vault. But I know the combination! Do you wabba know? It's 256821, Reiba! Can I habe some cannnnnnndddddyyy?"

"Sure?"

Her eyes drifted towards the watch she wore; yeah, okay, this'd be over soon enough, and she could get gone.   
But, that didn't change the fact he'd just given her some sort of yakuza money cache code?!

"Are you, like, sure you won't remember any of this?.."

"What, Reiba?"

He reached ineffectively and giggled as he missed every single flung piece.   
Also drooled a bit. She wasn't one to, like, judge?   
Okay, sometimes she could be a little judgy? But it was so _gross_ –

"Oh-oh-oh, it's byebye time! Gogo, Reiba! See you again nextynext time!"

A lot of people would be impressed at how quickly a rail-thin woman could pedal, when she really wanted to, but Reiwa'd actually done pretty well athletically, as a girl?   
Not like she had any interest in pursuing that sort of thing, it'd just helped kill time –

The computer was a welcoming return, all black and white sanity in a world of shifty shades of grey.   
She pretended to update some patient info as she heard the doctor getting dressed.

When he shuffled out, his simply stubbly grin made him look a lot more trustworthy – to people who weren't Reiwa, that was.   
  
"Oh, Reiwa. Working late again, I see? I should really pay you more. Why don't I pay you more? Ahaha, that's a joke. I can't afford to pay my own salary, these days! Why do we keep losing patients? Do you think I need to go see a doctor? Reiwa – "   
  
He kept talking, she kept nodding.   
This was the part of secretarial work she liked best because she didn't have to talk at all.   
He didn't _want_ an answer, anyway, he wanted somebody to sign off on all his...   
Whatever this was.

Trustingly, he grabbed his coat, kicked off his slippers, put on his shoes, and left.   
  
If she'd wanted to snoop around, she totally could've?   
But there was nothing she didn't already know about, here, mostly.

So why was she still pretending to work at the computer...

Locking up was easy enough.   
It was a ritual, as much as it was anything else.   
That weird certainty you can only get from – closing up things, for good. Locking them away...

_Click._

Her stupid car'd broken down, so that meant taking the bus.   
Which wasn't terrible? She didn't hate public transport?   
But she hated the sort of people she met on it?

For example, the guy next to her, right now –

Reiwa sat down on one of the few open seats.   
The guy to her left was maybe a year or two younger, one of those shaved-head-I-coulda-been-a-baseball-star types. (Who definitely couldn't have been.)   
He was wearing some sort of wannabe tough-guy jacket, too. Emblazoned with stars indicating the National Protection Association.

National Protection from _what?_   
Good taste?

"Hey, baybee. Come here often?"

"Yes?"

"... Oh."

Every few minutes, he repeated the question, with varying degrees of success.   
They weren't directed at her, anymore, but pretty much every other woman in the bus.   
She learned a lot by listening in, since – once people stopped paying attention to her, she could basically become a ghost?..

His name was Gorou, maybe?   
And he was interested in engineering, but he was a drop-out?   
But he was looking for a lady to kill some time with?

She ground her teeth.

The gaps made it feel a bit awkward.   
... The bus bumped against earth as it moved on.


	3. Maybe?

The TV blared endlessly on.   
Some reality television show, or something.   
She tried not to pay too much attention to it, but couldn't really relax without the background ambience.

A guy whose name may or may not have been Goro/Gorou/Gore-o had already left, thankfully.   
And she'd gotten some good time to herself to really think.   
Sure, a lot of people would've probably been shocked to think that she thought so seriously, but they were totally wrong?

... Just...   
  
Being alone was terrifying.  
You eventually ran out of room to hide from your thoughts, and then – when you least expected them – they drove the knife in.

She'd gotten dressed again, and kinda wanted to drinking somewhere, or see if a friend – any friend? – was in town, but they never were.   
She'd been replacable even back in the day, and the truth of the matter was that Reiwa had always known she was the person who was brought along because she was 'there.'   
  
And the weird part was, she still missed them occasionally.   
Hoped they were well.

It was a nice bed, large and plush!   
Like, she'd spent a lot of money on ensuring it wasn't uncomfortable.   
No ceiling fan here, though.

She blew some of her hair away from her eyes, and glanced at the bookshelf.   
Dusty tomes stared back at her, in order of least dustiest to most neglected.   
  
Without thinking, she grabbed one at random; a travel atlas.   
Some European country? It sounded romantic?   
But she didn't have any interest in actually traveling there?

Pretending to read to distract herself until the blare of some old superhero show and the words had merged together into an interchangable mass, she drifted off into dreams...

In her dreams, she was standing in a wide hallway.   
Many different doors, carved from white and blue stone cracked with golden marble, stood in front of her.

"Dang?"

Her dream-self said to the doors, and they laughed back.   
Each one flapped themselves open and shut, like the wind – or people, maybe both.

Without hesitation, she drop-kicked the closest door, and was midly surprised (and very satisfied) when it flew off of its hinges and was devoured by an all-consuming void up 'above' her.   
(Reiwa made a note to not drift too close to it.)

The pathway behind the defeated doorway was all cracked stone and dried ground.   
She decided she probably wasn't in Japan, but that was cool, since this was a dream?   
Maybe this was that European country?   
  
... Probably not.

A variety of tall, crane-legged birds were bending into a small and barely-present stream, drinking water that looked as if it were probably more toxin and rust then anything drinkable.   
She made a face, and one of the birds _flew_ at her, screaming terribly.   
  
Reiwa ducked, but not out of fear.   
  
The swarm of them took wing, flying past her in a mess of pyrite-flecked feathers.   
Several fell around her, and she took one in her fingers, playing it underneath her fingernails.   
... Frowning, she let it fall to the ground and carried on.

_You aren't fooling anyone._

It sounded a lot like her, but it definitely wasn't.   
She never doubted herself.   
And when she did, it was only when she was awake. Yeah.   
Only when she was awake.

 _You aren't fooling anyone, and you're making too many mistakes._  
Stop caring so much. You'll get in trouble.   
No one will miss you.   
Stop this, and turn back. 

The dry riverbed had started to slope up, like a hill; but then the ground underneath her started to rise, to actually _rise._  
She danced so swiftly from foot-to-foot it felt as if she were waltzing with the rocky soil, but she'd never been a good dancer.   
Falling right on her butt, she was carried away by the angry earth, towards the void above.

Within it, something cracked and gaudy stared back at her.   
No clue what it was, but she decided it was probably some sort of porcelain plate. It looked pointlessly fancy, like that.

"Go away?"  
  
Reiwa said, feigning fearlessness she didn't feel.

 _No._  
You should stay here, where it's safe; where I am right, because I am trying to keep you safe.   
By going away, I would be consigning you to a terrible fate. And I am unwilling to do so, not even for a moment. 

The voice really did sound like her.   
Not like how she sounded in the waking world; like how she _imagined_ herself to sound in her own head, where nobody else could hear her.

"Yeah, well, go away?!"

She repeated, and sniffed.   
Even in her dreams, her makeup was running – it was always like that, though –   
  
_Why won't you let me help you?  
All I want to do is help you. Help us. _

"Didn't you just tell me there's no help? So you can go take your... Platitudes and go, you know, bury them? In a ditch?"

The ground sighed once more, as if she'd something funny – and let her go.   
Reiwa fell, and fell, and fell.   
She could feel everything that was _her_ melting away, like sugar being dissolved under a high heat, or the last gasp of spring snow.

When she finally fell...

_There was a thump, and she realised she'd fallen off of her bed._

Maybe she would've pretended to laugh or feigned a bit of embarrassment if somebody was around.   
Like, a cute guy, or... Or something.   
Maybe – maybe a few friends, a few girls who were friends...

But there wasn't _anybody_ around.   
She was _alone._

...

Regardless, she felt a bit stronger then the night before, even though it'd be another terrible day at work, a terrible attempt to find meaning in anhedonistic world, and a terrible world, at that.  
Nobody'd even appreciate her good hidden talents, like mental math?   
Oh, _which,_ by the by –

With determination, Reiwa headed towards the phone.   
She curled her fingers around the cord, even as she dialed the number she'd seen on the back of so many stands...


	4. Anhedonia?

"Anonymous tipster reveals unknown stash! Let's all thank all anonymous helpers! Thank you, everyone!"

The police mascots bowed, in synch, as they passed the jumbotron projector.   
Reiwa snorted, but so quietly it probably went unnoticed (it definitely went unnoticed).

Like, she didn't even think the local police mascosts were cute?   
Someone should've hired a visual designer, some kind of artist?..  
Still, the morning sun was up bright and early.   
  
It felt kind of good.

Confirmation was nice, to, even if it was unappreciated.   
If it had really been something they wanted to thank, couldn't, like, some random government guy tracked her down and given her a medal or something?   
Or told her – some sort of comforting lie about the world?   
  
Made you wonder about society?   
(It made her wonder about society.)

The bus was laden with fresh streamers advertising some sort of fashion show that she was half-interested in.  
Although Reiwa considered herself _fashionable_ , she wasn't interested _in_ fashion.   
It was a mistake amateurs made. She felt it was all kind of vain, or maybe she'd liked it once, but it'd – you know, it'd started to matter less...

**Whatever.**

And the bus was lonelier this morning, which was weird.   
Even in districts like this, there were usually a lot of crowds?   
Plenty of middle-age housewives eager to talk about the stock market and, like, trade shopping tips or whatever...

But not today.   
  
It was almost – surreal.

"Miss, you okay? You look awfully thoughtful."   
  
The busman adjusted his dark black cap. He was probably, like, fifty?   
She decided he was fifty. One of those guys that could've actually come straight from the television, himself.   
From some period drama about Japanese Spirit, or something. The way things 'ought' to be.

He had a nice smile, though.   
The actual kind. Genuine.   
  
"I am?"

"Er..."

"But, I mean I am. I've got a lot on my mind. Thank you for asking? But don't worry about it, Mr. Driver? None of it is stuff that matters."   
  
"Hrmn, I find everything matters. It's just a matter – ha HAH! – of whether we're willing to open up to those around us, or not. Not that I am; I kind of like being a face in the crowd, you know?"

... _She absolutely understand that._

"Well, but, like? That doesn't mean you don't want to do the right thing, right?"  
  
"Mmn, of course not."

"... Do you ever, like... Do you wonder a lot if you _have?_ If anything you do really _matters?_ "

They were both silent, and only the punctuation of the bus creaking along a pre-ordained path interrupted their thought.   
She hadn't meant to ask a 'deep' question, mostly because she didn't think it was particularly deep, herself.  
She wanted to do the right thing. Because there were a lot of people who grew up to be kind of peripheral, like her?   
  
So, you know, sticking up for them was important.   
Also the right thing to do?   
  
And it wasn't like, if – the doctor had remembered that, he'd make good use of it.   
He never made good use of anything.   
...   


Maybe it was just regret that she wouldn't see that kid again?   
Not like they'd been close, though. And that was another thing, maybe she should've – reached out more, tried more to do something _right,_ and –

The bus rolled to a stop, wheezing in protest.

"Oh, this is me? Thank you, Mr. Driver."

"Yeah, sure. Please be safe and have a good day."

Exchanging precisely the right amount of pleasantries, they parted ways and she stepped out towards the daylit office building.   
It looked like the doctor hadn't even arrived yet, honestly, why was his schedule so weird?

... She wanted to to snoop, but that was an advanced kind of snooping?

The door unlocked with a welcoming _click_ and she let herself in.

Her shoes slid off; her slippers had slid on.

Lights danced into existence, one after the other.

When she took an uncomfortable seat next to the computer, everything seemed to put itself in perspective.   
She'd played her part, like she always did; done what she thought was right, in a matter that seemed like it'd been important, but probably wouldn't – do anyone any good, anyway.   
So who cared, right...

But she was happy with herself.   
There weren't a barrage of unpleasant thoughts battering around her skull, and she – felt like she'd done the right thing?

And, she thought as she slid a very old toffee chocolate bar from the desk drawer, was something to be proud of, probably?

Black and white displays greeted her with a litany of information of questionable value.   
Charts and dates and appointments that she'd needed to correct since yesterday, which was why it wasn't that bad that the doctor hadn't shown up just yet –

_Ergh._

Today, that Noa girl was coming through?   
She always acted _so_ fake. Whether she was trying to get something she wanted, or be, like, saccharine?   
And then she was always shocked, _shocked_ when it didn't quite work out the way she wanted?

... Reiwa bit her lip (again).

Maybe she should check on Noa, too?   
  
_Nah._  
Of course not.   
There was nothing she could do about Noa, anyway. 

Sighing, she lay back in her chair, and pretended to watch the ceiling fan dance, in tiny pirouettes...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heeeeeey, LockedOn. If you end up seeing this, Takuma's moustache is something else.


End file.
